She didn’t respond. Her hands fell from the baby and his wrist and dangled lifelessly on either side of the bed. “Doctor Reynolds! Something’s wrong!”
“Daisy?” The doctor stood up from between Daisy’s legs. “Hey, Daisy? You with me?”
One nurse scooped the baby up, and the other cut the umbilical cord with precise, efficient movements. The nurse with the baby carried her to the waiting infant bed, and the other nurse straightened Daisy’s legs and checked her pulse as she reclined the head of the bed so that Daisy lay flat. “Doctor!”
The doctor rushed to Daisy’s side, lifted her eyelids, and then used her stethoscope to listen to her chest. Doctor Reynolds made a fist and jammed her knuckles into Daisy’s breastbone, roughly rubbing up and down. Daisy didn’t move at all. In two steps, Doctor Reynolds hit a button on the wall and yelled, “We need a crash cart in here!”
From lofty, mountainous heights, Ken slammed back to earth. Every part of his body went numb with the impact. Stunned, he watched everything happen as if somehow removed from his body. Completely out of his element, he didn’t know what to think, how to react. One minute, everything was exactly perfect. The next, they guided him out of the way to put an IV in Daisy’s arm and place electrodes on her chest. He stood next to Rosita’s bed, helpless, numb, and mute.
While he observed, people ran into the room pushing a large cart with machines and equipment on it. A newly arrived male doctor shouted orders. Doctor Reynolds started CPR on Daisy as they tried to discover what happened. He heard “Clear!” and the top of Daisy’s body jerked.
For the first time in decades, Ken’s mouth filled with the sharp copper taste of fear. He scooped Rosita into his arms and stepped further into the corner, out of the way of the action. The male doctor climbed onto the bed with Daisy, straddling her, and continued to administer CPR as two nurses lifted the bed’s railings and kicked off the brakes. With efficiency, they smoothly pushed the bed out of the room. Dr. Reynolds gestured in his direction as she ran after the bed. The remaining nurse walked toward him.
“She suffered a cardiac arrest, and she’s bleeding internally. We don’t know what happened yet or why. They’re going to take her into surgery. They need to assess her condition. As soon as they figure out what happened, someone will come out to speak with you.”
She rushed out, leaving Ken standing there holding Rosita, who had been born just seven short minutes earlier. Silence descended on the room, replacing the chaos that had filled it just seconds before. Another nurse, one he hadn’t seen before, came in. “Mr. Dixon?” she asked softly.
He stared at her but didn’t respond. What was he supposed to say? Or do?
“Mr. Dixon, I need to take the baby to get her cleaned up and warm. You can come along with me if you want.”
He blinked, and then her words clicked. “I have to talk to our parents.”
He lay the baby in the tiny little bed with the plexiglass sides, and she wheeled it out of the room. In the doorway, she turned and looked at him. “You can come find me any time. We’ll be in the nursery. There’s a waiting room near the operating room. Someone can take you there when you’re ready.”
Kenexited via a different door and out into the waiting room just off their room. Daisy’s mom looked up immediately. “What did we have?”
Opening and closing his mouth, he just stared at her, unable to form words. His dad came to his side. “What’s wrong?”
“Daisy…,” his throat froze, and his dad gripped both of his shoulders with his hands. Ken’s voice sounded scratchy, hoarse. “Something was wrong.”
“What?” Rita asked, standing and putting a hand on his arm. “What happened? Is the baby okay?”
“The baby?” He blinked and looked at her, a look of incomprehension. “She’s okay.” His breath hitched, and he blinked again.
Rita’s eyes widened in panic. “Daisy?” She shook his arm and looked at the door of the waiting room as if it held all the answers. “What happened?”
His thoughts tumbled and avalanched and cycloned. What had happened? “I don’t know. They took her. I have to…” He stepped away and put his hands on the top of his head. “We have to go.”
His mom appeared at his side. “Come on, son. I know where to go.” She wrapped her arms around Ken’s arm and guided him to the doorway that led out into the hospital corridor. Over her shoulder, she said, “Phillip, call the boys.”
Thetime crawled by with glacial slowness. Ken felt like he was trapped under water, trying to move weighted limbs, struggling to breathe. His chest felt heavy, and every exhalation hurt. He’d sat for a long time in the waiting room, sandwiched between his mom and Daisy’s mother. No one said anything, as if everyone knew if they spoke even one single word, the air around them would shatter like glass hit with a stone.
Eventually, he couldn’t take the waiting anymore. He surged to his feet and rushed from the room. But once out in the hall, he had nowhere to go. Panting, desperate, he stopped in the corridor next to the double doors that led to the operating rooms and leaned against the wall. He wanted to build something—or demolish something. Either would do. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and bent over double, his elbows against his knees.
Suddenly out of energy, he slid down the wall until he sat against it, his legs drawn up. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes as tears wet his temples. When Brad and Jon sat on either side of him, he didn’t move.
Finally, he said, “I can’t lose her. I was created to be her man.”
Jon put a hand on his knee, but he didn’t reply. Brad slipped his arm over his shoulders and squeezed, releasing the dam of emotion Ken held so precariously in check. His entire body shook with silent sobs as he replayed the last few minutes with Daisy in his mind. The image of them doing CPR on her took all the breath out of his body. When the flood of emotion dissipated, leaving him weak, he realized both brothers had their arms around him, shielding him with their love. As he returned to himself, he could hear Brad praying over him, praying for Daisy, and praying for Rosita.
“Mr. Dixon?”
Ken looked up and saw the nurse who took Rosita from him. “Yes?” he asked in a hoarse voice.
“You can come sit with the baby any time.” He looked toward the double doors leading to the surgery area as Brad and Jon moved away from him and stood. She spoke as if she knew what he worried about. “We’ll know where you are. We’ll come find you immediately. I have a room for her. You can come sit and be alone.” She looked at the men on either side of him. “Or you don’t have to be.”
Brad held out a hand, and Ken gripped it, letting his brother haul him to his feet. He followed the nurse past the waiting room where their families assembled, expectant for news, down the corridor. She used her badge to grant them entrance through two different doorways. Finally, she opened a door and stepped back, gesturing into a room equipped with a rocking chair and a small sofa. “If you’ll wait in here, I’ll bring her to you.”
